


Duty

by roselightsaber



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Vignette, lazy day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-26
Updated: 2016-12-26
Packaged: 2018-09-12 11:27:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9069496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roselightsaber/pseuds/roselightsaber
Summary: A quick Spiritassassin vignette on a lazy day.





	

They’re supposed to be on patrol, but it’s a quiet day, and neither Baze nor Chirrut has ever let a little duty get in the way of enjoying an unusually warm day in the city. They’re still keeping an eye on the city, they’re just doing it from a comfortable seat on a wall along a pathway into the marketplace, sipping something citrusy and refreshing from little cups–Baze had scraped and saved to make sure they had a little money stashed away for just such an opportunity. Chirrut is nestled awfully close against him for either of them to still claim they’re working, but Baze can’t object. They don’t have a lot of chances to enjoy themselves and the relaxed, contented look on Chirrut’s face is more of a blessing than anything he’s felt at the temple.

He won’t admit it aloud but there’s something charming about the man’s small stature; he knows full-well, from firsthand experience, that Chirrut is just as strong as he is, and he’s faster too, but he looks so delicate sometimes. Many nights have been spent admiring his strong but slight frame, Baze’s hands at his narrow waist or thumbs tracing lines of his hipbones. But these moments spent with an arm around his shoulders, feeling the sun on both their faces, are every bit as special. Chirrut cocks his head toward Baze. “Are we shirking our duties too much?”

“I think we can get away with it a little longer. Why do you ask?”

“Your mind is so busy even while we’re relaxing here.”

“My observant, troublesome Chirrut,” He coos fondly, hooking a finger under his chin and tilting his head up for a brief kiss. “Shall we head back to our post where my thoughts will be quieter?”

“We should. If we overindulge, someone will notice and then we won’t be able to sneak off like this again. Then again…” He sighs and leans against him more heavily. “Walking back doesn’t sound so appealing.”

“Come on, come on.” He stands and holds out a hand to the other. “You can’t pull the little blind man act on me. We’ve sparred too many times for you to get away with that.”

Chirrut smirks. “Carry me back.” This was not a typical request, but making demands isn’t a rarity. Baze thinks he does it to test his willingness to give him what he wants, but it’s a little more than that–maybe a defense of sorts, acting like a spoiled kid as an adult when he’s never been anything close to spoiled in his whole life. And Baze grumbles and complains and denies him for about thirty seconds each time, then gives in, and hopes that the Force doesn’t have some way of telling the other he’s smiling. This time is no different.

“You’re blind, you still have legs.”

“I’m tired. We trained hard yesterday. You even knocked me over.”

“And then you got me back and cracked me across the chest with that staff–”

“I didn’t hit you _that_  hard–”

“ _And_  you ran ahead of me on the way here and tried to tackle me in the street.”

“And what did you do then? You put me in a headlock. Me. A _blind man_.”

They’re halfway back to the temple when Baze sighs dramatically and crouches for Chirrut to hop on his back. “I ought to throw you in a sand dune,” He huffs as Chirrut digs his fingers into his hair. “That’s not a handle, Chirrut Imwe.”

“No, the handle is down here.” He pinches both of his ears and then yells in protest when Baze tries (or at least makes it seem like he’s trying) to fling him to the ground.


End file.
